We are at one of Son’s favourite places. It’s a little historical village, depicting life in the 1920’s in our city. The first time I took him here, I wasn’t sure he’d like it. I’d been once before with Husband and it struck me as interesting, but small, mostly old buildings, not much to interest a kid. But the first time we went, it was winter and rainy and there wasn’t much else to do. The village turned out to have an old streetcar Son could explore and an old shed with a working steam engine. He fell in love with those things and now this is one of his favourite places.
So, here we are, summer now, with Grandma. Daughter is in the stroller. It’s a cool day. Cloudy but not rainy, with the sun peeking through every once in a while to say hello. Son is running down the path from the tram engine to the shed with the steam engine. He’s free to run here. There aren’t any cars, and today, hardly any people for me to worry about. He knows this place. Here he doesn’t have to hold anyone’s hand, he decides where we’re going next. I can see from his bouncing feet and swinging arms he is happy.